


Paper thin

by inkjoy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alphonse is perfect and thats a fact, Brotherhood Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Jean Havoc POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 21:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20347120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkjoy/pseuds/inkjoy
Summary: No one in Mustang's team knew what Alphonse looked like without the armour. Havoc gets curious and asks, and Ed produces a photo. Seeing what Al should be, and what Ed and Al are trying so hard to get back to, pulls a few heartstrings in the office.--There is a saying that goes ‘the world will end, not with a bang, but with a whimper.’ Havoc is willing to bet none of those people ever met Edward Elric.





	Paper thin

**Author's Note:**

> First FMAB fic, I'm excited!  
I wrote this in 2 and half hours during a random burst of inspiration during the middle of the night.  
Enjoy!

There is a saying that goes ‘the world will end, not with a bang, but with a whimper.’ Havoc is willing to bet none of those people ever met Edward Elric. 

A metal leg forcefully leveraged the door to the office open through sheer force of strength, leaving it resounding off the wall with a unfortunately familiar bang. More than once, Havoc had imagined what would happen should he be unlucky enough to be standing in front of that door when Edward decides to make one of his sporadic entrances. If he survived it (and that was a big if) Havoc imagined he would be stuck filling out endless paperwork for the inconceivable and regrettable death of the Fullmetal Alchemist after Riza put a bullet through his head for injuring one of her teammates. It was a little heart-warming and a lot concerning to be treated with such appreciation. 

He could almost read the headlining news articles now: Unfortunate Accident Causes Death of The People’s Alchemist. 

Accident, of course, being the key word. Havoc was both comforted and disconcerted over the fact that if Riza truly wanted to murder someone, he had full confidence she would never be caught. The accident was completely unpreventable, the article would read instead, and the nation mourns the tragic loss of one of their own.

Today as it happened, was one of the days Edward burst into the room with his usual flare, thankfully with no one standing behind it. Havoc and rest of Mustang’s team were so used to his antics it only took half a second of reaching for the nearest weapon before a billowing red jacket and the whip of a golden braid through the air had everyone relaxing back into their seats. And where Edward was, his younger – though much larger – brother followed with quiet apologies to the room at large and half-hearted reprimands towards his brother. Havoc was impressed he still tried, after all it was a constantly losing battle to get Ed to be any form of polite and respectful. 

At least he kept things interesting.

“Hey boss,” Havoc greeted, waving a hand through the air. Similar greetings echoed out from around the room. The workplace always became so much brighter and livelier when Edward and Alphonse were around, and Havoc had the sneaking suspicion that that was a common theme everywhere the Elric brothers traversed. Drooping eyes and slouched postures were suddenly perking up with instantaneous enthusiasm at their very presence. 

“Good morning, Edward.” Riza said, standing from her desk to welcome him. 

“Hey,” Edward greeted back, sweeping his eyes across the room. His gaze appeared casual, but Havoc could see the discerning glean of his eyes as he looked over each of them, as if he was checking they were all fine and accounted for. It was sort of sweet, really, is his own way. Especially when you considered how Edward was still just a kid when it came down to it, yet he watched them for any sign of grievance his persistent hero-complex would never let him ignore. Sweet, but also a little sad. 

“Good morning,” Al chirped. How Al’s voice had so much inflection while being a literal suit of armour always sort of amazed him. Despite being such an imposing looking figure at first glance, Al’s presence wasn’t always the most noticeable. He somehow managed to shrink himself down to something smaller, his existence much timider and more bashful than his brother’s. The armour held no expressions, only a blank emotionless metal face and yet Havoc felt certain that Al would be smiling shyly at them all right now if he was able. 

Not for the first time, he hoped dearly for Alphonse to get his body back soon. He wanted to put a face to his voice, rather than the cold image his makeshift body often portrayed. And if anyone could do it, it would be Ed. 

The door to Mustang’s office opened soundlessly, and the Flame Alchemist strolled out like he’d just walked of the photoshoot for a magazine, stopping at Havoc’s desk. 

“Ah, Fullmetal. I see you’ve returned from your latest mission. I can always hear your rather distinctive entrances.” His hip rested against the side of Havoc’s desk, given him an elegant sort of lean. “And Alphonse, how nice to see you again.” 

Secretly, Havoc wondered how exactly Mustang had mastered such grace. Once in the privacy of his own home, he had attempted to recreate Mustang’s particular swagger and artful sprawl and had pulled a muscle in his lower back. He had told the office he had injured himself rescuing a kite from a tree for a young child. He never would have lived down the shame if they knew the truth. Riza might have shot him on the principle of it alone. 

“You too, Colonel.” Al said warmly. He had his hands clasped in front of him in a gesture that likely looked sweet on a fourteen-year-old boy, but only looked odd instead.

“Hey,” Ed interrupted sharply. “Why does Al get a ‘nice to see you’ and I don’t? I’m the one working for you, you bastard.”

Mustang smiled so wide his brilliantly white teeth gleamed. Havoc sighed. Fuery and Falman went back to their work. Riza narrowed her eyes and Breda smirked and settled in too watch the show. Ed alone kept the office interesting. But Ed and Mustang together was like throwing fuel on a fire – a bit risky, but also a lot of fun and with a possibility of being burnt.

“Why Fullmetal, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t care you stupid Colonel!” He snapped back. He bristled like an angry guard dog. 

Havoc settled in too. Once those two got going at it there was little that could stop their bickering. He suspected they both got a sadistic kind of joy from the back and forth, even if they’d rather be executed on the spot than admit it.

Riza cleared her throat and the pointed click of the safety of a gun being removed echoed through the room.

Ah. Little could stop them, but not nothing. 

And here he had been hoping the argument would be drawn out for a while longer. The more that they argued, the longer Havoc could beg off work in the name of making sure neither of them decided to strangle the other out of sheer frustration. 

“If you gentlemen could behave for one second.” Riza’s hand thumbed the handle of her gun. 

It was hilarious to watch, really, how two of the most powerful men in the military all but snapped their heels and saluted whenever Riza stepped in. Not that he was any different, but it was more fun when it happened to them.

Al chimed in as well, “Really brother, you need to learn to hold your tongue. It’s just like when you were kids and you would always talk back to the teacher at school.”

Edward scoffed. “It’s not my fault that the teacher was always wrong. Honestly, she should have known the chemical composition of barium acetate, it’s basic information.” 

Havoc thought the information was not basic, had never been basic, and probably stumped even professors of chemistry if they were asked on the spot. That was Edward Elric for you, though, genius to a fault much to the despair of many people he encountered who had the misfortune of being unaware of his terrifying intelligence.

“It was a class of six and seven-year olds.” Al pointed out. Edward’s unchanged expression spoke volumes. 

And besides,” Ed blithely continued without acknowledging him, “if I recall you were whispering the correct answers under your breath anyway. I was just the one who decided to speak out.” 

Al didn’t respond except for an exasperated, “Brother,” which meant that Ed had likely been telling the truth and didn’t want to admit it. Al was a genius in his own right, but Edward generally commanded all of the attention with his boisterous personality.

“I can’t imagine what Al looked like as a kid,” Falman, who had apparently been listening in on the exchange, commented. 

A moment of silence fell across the office. It seemed since Falman had said he couldn’t imagine it, everyone had to instantly see if they could. Havoc, at least, only pictured a miniature version of the suit of armour, and with a school bag slung over his shoulder. It was one of his stranger mental images. 

A quick glance around the room told him that the team had likely failed to picture the two brothers together as kids as well.

“Now that you mention it,” Havoc said, “I don’t even have the faintest idea what Al actually looks like.”

Even Riza looked contemplative. “You’re right. When we first met the Elric brothers, Al was already in the armour. None of us have seen his real body except for Edward.” She scrutinised the armour, like perhaps if she looked hard enough she could see through it and to the boy trapped inside. 

“Tell us, Fullmetal,” Mustang drawled, though there was a curious glint in his eyes, “what does Al look like?”

Havoc appreciated his bosses use of the word ‘does’ instead of ‘did.’ Nothing got Edward more riled up and closed off than the suggestion that reattaining their bodies wasn’t a guarantee. 

Of course, Edward was very clearly not as focused on the nuances of Mustang’s language choices as Havoc was, too busy puffing up like the proud big brother he was. “Al is perfect.” He boasted. “He’s got golden hair like mine – except he liked keeping his all cut short instead of growing it out.” An eye roll informed the team exactly what Ed thought of that.

“It’s called being reasonable, brother,” Al huffed. “I just never saw the point of having hair that would fly in every direction and get full of knots. It’s much more sensible to keep it short.”

“Well that explains it,” Breda grinned, “Ed has never been sensible a day in his life.”

Laughter broke out across the room, even Riza’s lips quirked upwards. Ed crossed his arms and huffed. “Yeah, yeah laugh it up. I was in the middle of something, before I was so rudely interrupted Al.”

“Please continue, Ed.” Hawkeye said.

Edward pointedly cleared his throat. “Like I was saying, Al was a real cute kid. When he was young he had these real round chubby cheeks, and the same colour eyes as mine, except bigger I swear, because whenever he looked imploringly at anyone with those big watery eyes, it was like people folded like a house of cards to do anything he wanted.”

Havoc would have bet money on Edward being the main victim of those eyes. 

Looking at Al now, he saw sharp, metallic lines cutting across Al’s large shape. His face was just the empty husk of a helmet, with intimidating glowing eyes, and angular features. Nothing about this body said ‘cute.’ That being said, the Al of now somehow looked bashful and shy. If a suit of armour could blush, he’d be bright red. 

“I’m still having trouble picturing it, Boss.” Havoc admitted. “You got any pictures or anything like that?” 

Even Fuery perked up at that. “I’d be interested to see pictures of what the two of you looked like before everything happened and you joined the military too. If you want to, that is.”

Al and Ed exchanges glances. Sometimes it seemed they transcended words and filled the breath of space between them with a conversation no one else was privy too. As if speaking out loud would only slow them down when a single glance could convey everything they wanted the other to know. Havoc wondered what it was like, to know someone with such frightening detail you could guess their thoughts in the fraction of an instance.

“Yeah,” Ed admitted after a moment, “I can share if Al is okay with it. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable looking at your body, so I can always tell them all to fuck off.” He directed the last part to his brother, uncaring of the fact everyone could hear them.

“It’s fine, brother. I think it might be nice to see the pictures. After all, it’s been so long sometimes I think I’m forgetting what I look like.” Al said.

Havoc had to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. He saw Edward’s lips twist downwards for a moment before he was suddenly smiling brightly. It felt forced. He knocked his fist against the armour.

“Good idea. I knew I kept you around for something.”

“Actually,” Al said teasingly, “I’m pretty sure you keep me around to stop you from getting kicked out of any establishment you set foot in.”

“Harsh, Al. Harsh.” Ed fished a wallet out from the pocket of his leather pants. Havoc was honestly surprised he fit anything at all into those pants. They clung to his legs like a second skin – there couldn’t be much room. But it was Edward, and he was well-known for defying the laws of physics – and the laws of Amestris on some days too depending on his mood.

Edward flipped open the wallet and fished out a well-worn photograph. He couldn’t see the front from this angle; however, even from a distance Havoc could see the edges of the photograph had become paper thin and cracked in places from constant handling. The back was yellow with age and handling and deep creases lined the photo were Ed must have folded it to fit into his wallet.

Ed stared at the photo for a moment, before he tilted it towards Al who leaned down to peer at it. It was like the whole office was holding its breath.

“Gosh, we look so young there. This must have been taken when we were living with Teacher.” Al touched one metal finger gently to the photograph.

“Yep,” Ed agreed. “Right when we finished training, I think.”

Havoc stood from his desk and wandered over to get a look at the picture. The rest of the team followed, even Mustang, until they were all crowded around and peering at the photograph with thinly disguised awe and sadness. 

Ed handed it cautiously over it to him. “Careful with that.” 

The picture was taken in what was likely this ‘Teacher’s’ house, showing an old wooden dining room table. On the table numerous plates were mounted with all kinds of delicious looking food. It had to have been for a celebration of some kind. 

There were two boys in the picture.

Both of them were beaming at the camera. Their bright grins juxtaposed against the dark wall behind them and the dim lighting in the room itself. One of the faces was incredibly familiar. Even without his signature braid and clothing style, Edward Elric wasn’t a hard face to miss. It was strange seeing him with shorter hair, though not as strange as seeing his right flesh hand grasping tightly to a fork, clearly eagerly waiting to dig into the feast in front of him. He looked a little younger than he had when he first started working in the military. Havoc would have guessed he looked around nine or ten. His left arm he’d hooked behind the head of the second boy at the table, fingers stuck up like bunny ears behind the person’s head. 

Behind Al’s head. 

Ed hadn’t been exaggerating. Alphonse was tiny and happy and there in all of the ways the Al of now wasn’t. His golden hair was shaved short at the sides, but slightly longer on top. His eyes were glowing like little suns with so much happiness and life that Havoc half-deliriously wondered how on earth he was going to look into the cold and glowing eyes of the armour again and know the warmth the world was missing out on. His skin had a healthy flush, cheeks bunched up due to his wide smile. He had one arm around Ed’s shoulders, and the other was holding up a peace sign. 

Alphonse looked so alive in that photo it nearly brought Havoc to his knees.

It was one thing to look at Al and know theoretically that it was the soul of a young boy who had lost his body. It was so abstract that the tragedy of the situation had never really sunk in. That sweetly smiling child did not yet know what awaited him. He didn’t know that soon he wouldn’t be able to taste meals like the ones laid across the table. He wouldn’t be able to feel Ed’s bony shoulder digging into his arm or need to fix his hair when Ed inevitably messed it up. He wouldn’t be able to dream or sleep at all, and would be stuck awake hour after hour, night after night, alone with only his thoughts and the knowledge – no, the hope – that he wouldn’t be like this forever. 

Havoc suddenly understood why Edward was endlessly racing from one end of the country to the other with reckless abandon. He understood why he spent more hours in the library than out of it. And why he could fight men with guns and knives without flinching but the idea of never getting his brother’s body back terrified him.

Because after looking at that picture just once, Havoc thought he’d do a hell of a lot to see that smile again. 

The rest of them team looked to be having the same realisation. Fuery’s eyes were glistening under the harsh office lights. Breda crossed his arms and stared off into the distance with a pensive expression. Falman kept glancing between the Al the armour and Al in the photo, trying to connect the two in some way. Hawkeye had pressed the side of her hand against her mouth, her other fist clenched at her side. And Mustang was looking at Ed, and Havoc hadn’t seen those eyes so clouded with emotion since Hughes’ funeral. 

“You were a beautiful child, Alphonse.” Riza broke the tense silence that settled over them.

“Much cuter than Ed at any rate.” Havoc added, smirking at Ed’s protest.

“I didn’t realise you two would look so alike!” Fuery gasped.

“Me neither,” Falman said, “you almost look like twins.”

Breda smiled lopsidedly at Al. “I can already tell you’re gonna be a heartbreaker once you’ve got that body of yours back.”

Al didn’t seem to know what to do with all of the praise. “Thank you.” He said, the smile evident in his voice even if not his face.

Mustang didn’t say anything. He stared at the photo again. 

Then for just a moment, Mustang reached over and clasped a hand on both Ed and Al’s shoulders and squeezed. One metal and one flesh. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need too.

Ed bowed his head, his fringe hiding his face from view. Then, he shrugged off Mustang’s hand and shrugged on his usual persona. “Don’t go getting sentimental on me now, Bastard.” Ed snapped. If his voice was rougher than usual, no one was going to mention it. 

“Of course not,” Mustang sniffed, “I was just trying to estimate how much taller Alphonse will be than you once he regains his body.”

A second of silence, and then: “Who the fuck are you calling short, you little –“

And the world spun on. 

\--

Several months, several deaths, and a lot of destroyed buildings later; Havoc found himself in the hospital visiting several patients after the supposed Promised Day. He had been far away from all of the action, trapped in a wheelchair and manning a general store many towns away. He had gotten the full story of everything that had gone down and one aspect had been talked about the most with a revered voice and relieved smiles. Mustang’s team had been great at catching him up on everything he missed (Ed had fought a God and gotten his arm back, what?).

Yesterday, though, he had arrived in Central and Mustang who had filmy white eyes had introduced him to an old alchemist called Marcoh, who had done the impossible. Typical Mustang, not letting him retire, even after he had been bound to a wheelchair. 

Now, he was back again on two legs and heading towards another hospital room, with most of his team in tow. There was one thing he had to see for himself. 

He knocked on the door.

“Come in!” A voice called out. It was a voice he had heard before, but not. A voice that had once been muffled now rung out clear and strong.

He opened the door and faced a hospital bed. Over his shoulder, the rest of the team were peering in. On it, sat two boys. Both golden-haired and golden-eyed. Both bandaged and in less than ideal condition but wonderfully, crazily, somehow, alive and in the flesh.

A thin, malnourished arm gingerly wrapped itself around the broad shoulder belonging to Edward who now had his own right arm back where it should be. The thin arm led to a thinner body with long, blonde hair unlike the picture he had once seen. His face was older and gaunter, and his hair was no longer that neat style, but his eyes were warm, and his smile was bright. So bright Havoc had to look away, his own eyes stinging as he was overwhelmed with how far two brothers would go for each other and who had finally, after all this time, gotten what everyone had been silently hoping and praying for.

They got each other. Not entirely healthy and not entirely whole yet, but entirely perfect.


End file.
